


Volley Up

by rtaf



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 00:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6882661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rtaf/pseuds/rtaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan offers to tutor Ray at volleyball and Ray's hesitant to accept. He really needs to pass, but Ryan's a little too intimidating for his liking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volley Up

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, I'm still working on my other stories! Just needed a refresher. :)

Ray spreads his legs shoulder length apart and bends his knees. The cushioned white ball flies over the net and he runs toward it, keeping his stance the whole time. "Got it," he calls out to his other teammate who looks over. The kid makes no move to steal the hit from him so Ray keeps his eyes on the ball.

He moves under it and throws his hands together, closing his eyes and clenching his fists tightly. His body tenses as he waits for the ball to hit his forearms but it never comes. Instead he hears a soft "paf," on the gym floor beside him.

"Fuck," he mutters, opening his eyes and retrieving the ball from where it's rolling across the freshly polished, shiny wood.

Some people giggle beside him and he rolls his eyes. Ray picks up the ball and turns around, hearing his name being called. It's Ryan, he realizes, meeting eyes with the kid who's waving him over beside the teacher.

Ray throws the ball over to his teammates and walks over. He doesn't like the matching smiles on Ryan and Miss Ritz's faces. Nothing good can come out of this conversation, he decides. Stopping in front of them and leaving enough distance for him to make a break for it, if need be.

"Ray, I normally don't do this but Ryan was kind enough to offer. I'm pairing you two up so he can help you with your bumps and serves. You're fairly decent at everything else but if you can't bring those two up to at least an average ability you're going to bring your team down when I test you."

Ray sighs, frustrated because he hasn't been able to bump the stupid fucking volleyball once and all his marks for the term are going to come from this stupid unit.

"Alright, I guess," he agrees reluctantly. If anything, he just wants to pass and get the hell out of there. Also, you can't really argue with a teacher. He's not an asshole.

"Great. Let's get to work over there," Ryan decides aloud, pointing to the ample space across the gym from the nets and practice games.

Ray shrugs and follows him over to the empty side. Scooping up an abandoned ball on the way. He throws it at half force against the ground and bounces it at an angle that allows Ryan to catch it easily.

"So," he starts, deciding to get to the bottom of the whole thing. "You trying to get extra marks or something? Sucking up to Ritz's ass so you can make yourself look better compared to me?"

Ryan's eyes go wide and Ray bites his lip. Alright, maybe those accusations had been a little harsh. Besides, he's never even talked to the blonde haired kid before.

Luckily, though, Ryan chuckles. He looks to the side and then back over at Ray, throwing the ball weakly at his partner's head. "You're not some charity case or something. Just felt like we could both use more practice, that's all."

Ray crouches quickly and throws his hands up to cover his face, narrowly avoiding the ball. A handful of seconds pass before he straightens himself out and jogs over to get the ball for the third time that class.

"See, I hear what you're saying but, after that attack I have to assume you're bullshitting me," Ray jokes, approaching Ryan once more. Ball in hand and a tight lipped smirk on his face as he comes face to face with the boy.

" _Nah,_ " Ryan replies, dragging out the word in a sarcastic manner that has Ray fighting off a grin.

"Anyway, Ritz is clearly a shit teacher since she couldn't pinpoint what the problem is and it only took me a matter of minutes to figure it out," he continues.

"Oh yeah? What's the damage, doctor?" Ray asks with a crooked grin.

The longer he distracts Ryan, the less time they have to spend actually participating in gym. He's lucky Ryan humors him by continuing the banter. Guess the guy's not terrible or anything.

"You're scared of getting hit by the ball. It holds you back from following through with your shot," Ryan replies, matter of factly.

Ray rolls his eyes, alright he takes it back. Who does this guy think he is? That is so not the case.

"Nice try, champ but you're 0 for 1 on that one," Ray says smugly. 

He pulls himself away from their banter and catches the teacher staring at them from the edge of the court. She motions for them to keep going and Ray slouches over, bending his spine before straightening it.

"C'mon, just throw me the ball again. I'll get it eventually."

 

The next class rolls around and Ray is still struggling. A bit of pandering from Ryan has him admitting that the fear thing may play as a small factor in his unsuccessful attempts to serve and receive the ball, mid game.

"But there's not really anything you can do about it. I mean, that's a personal thing, right? I just have to get out of my head and accept the fact that the ball's not gonna hit me."

"Not necessarily. We can work on getting you more comfortable with the ball because your form is fine, all that needs work is your focus."

Ryan makes it all sound so easy, but it's hard for Ray to come to terms with the idea of focusing on the thing that's flying towards him and will inevitably knock him out.

"Now that you've admitted it we can get to the good stuff. I'm just gonna toss the ball at you, gently, don't worry. I want you to let it hit you."

"Alright so what I'm hearing is you're absolutely batshit insane and insistent on hurting me," Ray replies, stepping backwards cautiously.

"No, ugh just trust me on this. If you know what it feels like, letting the ball touch you, then you'll be ready in case it happens. Instead of focusing so hard on what it feels like you'll focus on when to hit it."

"Ugh, you make it sound all scientifically proven and shit. Okay I'll try your way out but on one condition." Ray bargains. He wants to at least get something out of this before the ball attacks his face.

"Name your price," Ryan says easily, a smile playing on the edges of his lips. He pushes off from the wall he was leaning against and uncrosses his arms.

"I get to hit you first."

Ryan doesn't even flinch, simply nodding at the request. He'd been expecting Ray to say something like that.

"What, really? You're just gonna stand there and take a ball to the face?" Ray asks. This kid really is crazy. 

It's one thing to be confident in his method, but to trust Ray to go easy on him? That's a lot of faith to have in a stranger. Luckily, Ray's heard that "golden rule" of treating others the way you want to be treated.

Ryan rolls the ball over to him and Ray takes a few steps back, giving them about two feet of distance in between. He raises his left arm and chucks the ball at a reasonable force. It hits Ryan dead on, square in the face and all he does is shut his eyes.

"See? There's nothing to be worried about," Ryan says, picking up the ball and spinning it in his hands. He lets out a short laugh at Ray's open mouthed gaze and preps his arm for throwing the ball back.

"Ready?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just let me take my glasses off first. I don't think you're up for paying two hundred bucks for a new pair."

 

At lunch, Ray finds Michael seated at their usual table in the cafeteria. He sits down across from his friend and looks at the brown mush on their plates. He's only slightly disgusted, because it usually tastes better than it looks. 

"So, how are practices going with Ryan?" Michael asks, forking into his plate.

"S'alright. Just wish I didn't need the gym credits."

"Dude, you know you don't need gym to graduate? You just need to pass Ethics and Religion."

"What? Seriously? You're telling me this now?!"

"Well yeah. I only found out yesterday in Milne's class. She brought it up when some kids came in late after gym."

"How do you know she was being serious?"

"Because she's worked here since the school opened. I'm pretty sure she knows what she's talking about, Ray."

Ray cocks his head and shrugs. He can't argue that logic.

"Okay well, awesome. I guess it's settled, then. No more practices for me. I'm getting nineties in ERC, so who the fuck cares about gym?" Ray says happily, reaching across the table for a high five.

Michael slaps his hand and grins. "What are you gonna tell Ryan?"

"Uh, that I've changed my mind? I dunno whatever. He probably won't even care, dude," Ray argues, digging into his lunch.

Ryan will probably be just as happy as he is.

 

It's two periods after lunch when Ray passes Ryan in the hallway later that day. He pulls him over to the side and tells him the good news with a bright smile, Ryan frowns. 

"You're giving up?" he asks. 

Ray can't really place why Ryan looks so bummed but he nods.

"Sure, if that's what you wanna call it. I'm not, though. I'm just... not gonna take it so seriously. If I don't need the marks then why bother, right?"

Ryan won't meet his eyes. He tells Ray that he understands, but if Ray changes his mind he'll still be practicing in the gym next class.

Ray watches as his partner disappears into the crowd once more and shakes his head. What's gotten into him?

 

Ray barely gives Ryan's words a second thought until the next class when he's changing in the locker room. He sees Ryan scuff a shoe against the baseboard where the dirty floor meets an equally disgusting wall.

Was Ryan upset that he wasn't going to have a partner to practice with anymore? Or specifically because it was Ray? Had he offended him somehow with his decision?

Ray follows Ryan out of the room and tries to corner him at the gym doors. "Uh, hey. Are you mad at me or something?"

Ryan's frown deepens and he sighs, turning around opening the doors without an answer. He figures it should be pretty obvious to Ray that he's hurt.

"Hey, wait c'mon. I can find you another partner or something. Just chill," Ray continues, going after Ryan towards their usual spot.

Ryan turns around so sharply that Ray bumps into his chest, glasses going askew. Ryan throws his arms out on reflex and grabs Ray's shoulders, carefully steadying him.

"Jesus, Ray. I don't need a new partner. I just want us to do well on this stupid unit," he confesses, letting go of his classmate and letting his arms fall to his sides.

Ray fixes his lenses and looks up at Ryan. "Oh. Well, you should've just said that. I'll do it if it means that much to you, man," Ray chuckles, giving Ryan a playful punch on the arm.

He stops when Ryan's expression doesn't change. "No that's not it. Ugh I just- you- I feel like we can do this. Not because I want us to but because it's so simple. It's so frustrating, you're this close," Ryan motions with his fingers. "And you're giving up."

Ray bows his head kicks against the gym floor, listening to the other students piling in. "Sorry," he apologizes.

Now it's Ryan's turn to chuckle. He lets out a "tsk" and pats Ray's head. "I'm not trying to guilt you or anything, don't apologize. Just... don't give up. One more practice and you've got this!"

Ray meets his eyes and gives a small smile. "Okay, only if we work on your spike."

Ryan exhales in relief and jogs over to the basket, taking a ball from the pile. He feels it to make sure there's enough air inside and then makes his way back over to Ray, launching the ball at his stomach.

They've got this.

 

The next class comes faster than they both expect it to. Ray's shaking off his jitters, talking with his team, when Ryan walks in. They make eye contact across the court and Ryan waves him over, wishing him good luck and giving him a firm pat on the back.

Ray grins and runs a hand through Ryan's hair, ruffling it into a blonde mess that looks something like a small haystack. Or a bird's nest.

The teacher blows her whistle and they all meet her by the court. She takes attendance and announces which teams are playing each other.

"It's the crows versus the cubs and the bulls versus the oreos."

Ray nudges Ryan with his shoulder. "Looks like we're going head to head."

"Bring it on."

 

They take their positions on the court, Ray in the front for the first two rotations. He's more comfortable up there, where he knows what he's doing. The other team serves first and he jumps for the ball, volleying it over the net. It works out just the way he wants it to. He'd hit the ball with just the right force so it falls right between the two back players.

His team cheers and they rotate. Alright, his turn to serve. He follows the steps Ryan had showed him and although it makes it over the net, it swerves and lands right into his opponents arms. They launch the ball back over the net and his team misses. 

Both teams now tied at four points.  
Ray shakily places his legs shoulder width apart and bends his knees a touch. He clasps his hands in front of his stomach, outstretched and puts his thumbs together. With his shoulders arched, he pushes, following through with the hit. It works and the ball soars over the net. Ray jumps for joy, looking to Ryan with an animated grin.

Ryan's smile quickly turns down and he yells out for Ray to duck. His focus doesn't shift fast enough. Everything goes in slow motion as the ball flies back over the net and right at Ray's head. He's knocked from his feet to the floor and the teacher blows her whistle, jogging over to him right as Ryan reaches him.

"I'm good, I'm good," Ray reassures, letting Ryan help him up. "It doesn't even hurt, I'm fine."

Ryan purses his lips to keep a smile from slipping as the teacher points out that Ray's nose is bleeding. Leave it to Ray to be so proud of making a shot that he barely reacts to being hit in the head.

"I'll take him to the bathroom," Ryan offers. "He could have a concussion."

Ray starts to protest but Ryan shoots him a look that tells him to shut up. The teacher pulls a pen from her pocket and writes them a pass on Ray's arm. 

They both look at her like she's crazy but she asks if either of them carry a pad of paper around. It's a fair point and Ryan grabs Ray's arm, rushing him out of the gym and down the hall, into the boy's bathroom. They'll just have to get two other kids to fill in for them.

"I did it," Ray says, still grinning. Ryan hands him some wadded up paper towel and instructs for him to hold his head back.

"I know. I'm proud of you," Ryan replies, leaning against the sink to Ray's left side.

A couple of minutes pass and Ryan waits for Ray's nose to recover. Eventually Ray tips his head forward again and checks to see if the bleeding has stopped.

"I'd have hugged you sooner if your nose hadn't decided to leak," Ryan says, breaking the silence.

Ray throws the bloody toilet paper out and turns to Ryan just as the other man throws his arms around him. "You did good."

Ray wraps his arms around Ryan, hugging him back. "With your help, haha. I probably wouldn't have even showed up today if you hadn't pushed me. So, thanks and stuff."

"And stuff," Ryan mimics, pulling away.

"Hey, you shut up. I'm trying to be nice here," Ray scolds, pouting and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Alright, and I appreciate it," Ryan amends. "You ready to go back?"

"Eh, I think we could wait it out in here a little longer," Ray decides, pulling on Ryan's arm to check the time.

He spends the next little while commenting on Ryan's insanely hairy arms before Ryan's grabbing his wrist and pulling him back into the gym. 

"Go and make me proud again," Ryan says, faking a small cheering motion as lets go of Ray.

The smaller of the two starts heading back to the court but turns around and salutes Ryan. "You got it, dad," he teases, before heading back into the game.

 

The score is 24 to 25 by the end of class. Ray's team, the bulls are in the lead. One more point and they win. Although it's just for fun and winning isn't accounted for in the marks, he's dead set on the victory.

He catches Ryan's eye as he jumps for the final ball. Ryan shoots him a thumbs up and Ray spikes the ball as hard as he can. The ball ricochets off of Ryan's hands and Ray dives to save it. His teammate beats him to it, flinging the ball over the net and right onto the line.

The teacher blows her whistle and decides that it's in. Ray's team whoops for the win and they share a round of fist bumps. The two teams line up for high fives with the opposing team. When Ray reaches Ryan he throws his arms around him, like they had in the bathroom fifteen minutes earlier.

Ryan pats him on the back and hugs him tightly. "See? Knew you could do it."


End file.
